


Sexual Flexibility

by Monsterunderkilt



Series: The Manse [20]
Category: Actor RPF, Celebrities - Fandom, RPF - Fandom, Real Person Fanfic - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27032260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsterunderkilt/pseuds/Monsterunderkilt
Summary: Tilda leads a yoga class for me and my Manse dwellers.
Series: The Manse [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1209447
Kudos: 1





	Sexual Flexibility

“Now slowly lower down, elbows at your sides, and hold chataranga,” Tilda says mellifluously. “Then... core tight, push forward for upward facing dog.”

I glance at her from the corner of my eye as I deftly enter the position on my mat. The sharp green scent of the freshly mowed lawn on the courtyard fills my senses as I lower to the ground and stretch my abs. She simply sits cross-legged—a gracile porcelain Buddha—on the top of the enormous boulder in the center of my garden. She was happy to fulfil my request to read yoga flow directions for us. Below, on our respective mats lined up like colourful Post-It flags on the grass, Stephen, Alan, Ken and I follow along as best we can. Not everyone is at the level of getting their thighs off the ground for up-dog, but that’s totally fine.

“And now, tabletop.”

The men let out chorus of relieved sighs.

Tilda’s eyebrow raises and she winks at me. “Bring your right foot to the right of your hand and rest on your forearms: lizard pose.”

I breath in and stretch my leg forward, opening my hips, easily assuming the pose. I close my eyes for an instant before I hear muttered cursing. I turn to look down the line of men to my left. Stephen is at the very end, sweating through his loose tank top and boxers, mumbling about his damned birthing hips. Ken, right beside me in an old RADA T-shirt and sweatpants, is smiling through half-lidded eyes as he self-assuredly folds his legs into a simple seat, hands resting on his knees—a mirror of Tilda above us. Alan is between them, utterly serene as he hits the perfect lizard stance, carving a fine living sculpture, topless and wearing naught but his black bike shorts. He glances at me from the corner of his eye and winks suggestively.

After a third attempt at this advanced hip opener, Stephen tumbles over and lies on his back, wiping his drenched forehead. When he spots Ken, he growls and points. “He’s not even trying!”

“He knows his limits!” Tilda scolds. “Return to tabletop, Stephen, and do a cat-cow before you have a cow.”

Alan and I both switch to our left leg, and he smirks at the unbothered Ken sitting next to him. “Well, now we know the dynamics when you two are in bed together,” Alan says with a little chuckle.

“No need to get crude now, Alan,” Tilda says, shaking her head. “Forward fold.”

This, everyone attempts together and no one falls down.

“Slowly rise up, one vertebra at a time until you reach mountain pose. Close your eyes, feel your feet evenly distributing their weight into the ground. Stay here and breathe.”

We share a collective couple of breaths, and listen to the birdsong and wind-flustered leaves in the jungle behind us beyond the pool area. I feel the room-temperature air of the outdoors like a release from the oppressive lava of the summer atmosphere. The grass smell swirls with an additional trace of faraway smoke. I breathe a few more times. A dry, warm set of fingers curls around my left hand, tugging it only slightly away from my side. A thumb rubs the ring on my middle finger, then drops away. I open one eye and feel my whole body blush when I see Ken smiling at me unflinchingly. He glances up at Tilda, whose eyes are still shut, then returns his one eye on me. He mouths the words “You’re magnificent,” winks, then instantly returns to his stoic mountain pose.

I take one last deep breath with the group, unable to repress a smile.

“Now open your eyes and stretch your arms up, breathing in...” Tilda says, “Then drop them down to your sides, breathing out.” She claps once and smiles. “Good effort, everyone. See you next week.”

I jump off my mat and go to roll it up. As soon as I bend over, arms wrap around my middle and lift me off the ground, swinging me up over a shoulder.

“Up we go, then,” Sir Ken says, patting my bum as he begins to walk toward the house.

As I bounce up and down with each of Ken’s steps, I see Alan and Stephen with their hands on their hips, shooting darts with their eyes. I shrug comically at them.

“Not again!” Alan calls out, then turns to Stephen. “Look how he just goes all caveman on us every time we do this.”

“What were you saying about our bedroom dynamics, Alan?” Ken says over the shoulder on which I am not currently draped.

“Perhaps some of us just want a go sometime, if we’d ever get the chance!”

I cover my face and hold back my giggles at all this ridiculous male posturing. Ken shifts me from his shoulder so he’s carrying me like a newlywed bride over the threshold of the living room’s open glass doors. I hold on tightly to his neck and kiss the corner of his mouth. “Now we’re out of sight, you can put me down if you want, sweetie.”

Ken groans as he places me on my feet, then overacts a backache. “Why do you weigh so much?’

I smack his bum and run off to the foyer and up the stairs, Ken fast on my heels.

Stephen is still outside, but just within earshot, yelling, “Be prompt, you two! Dinner’s in an hour!”


End file.
